


Wet-fresh

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, rainy picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you hate the rain so much, why did you invite me out here?” Harding asks.</p><p>“Because we’re not staying in the rain! Nutter,” Sera says, jigging from one leg to another. “C’mon, c’mon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet-fresh

Sera sniffles, green and forlorn as soon as they step beyond the tavern’s protective awning.

“Easy for you, yeh. You’re farther from the sky.”

“Stop. You won’t die from a little wet,” Harding replies, resisting the childish urge to spin. Then again-- it’s Sera, dear as her own heartbeat. Harding fans her fingers wide, palms up to embrace the silver-thread drops falling, an empress’ weight in ransom if it could be gathered.

Sera gives a keening wail of dismay, not stopping even when Harding pulls out an apple turnover she saved just for her. Stuffs it in her mouth, crumbs cascading down her shirt and spilling over her hands with flaky sweetness, now soggy in the rain. She wails through the chewing, an extravagant display of utter misery.

“If you hate the rain so much, why did you invite me out here?” Harding asks.

“Because we’re not _staying_ in the rain! Nutter,” Sera says, jigging from one leg to another. “C’mon, c’mon.”

And Harding follows, circling puddles Sera splashes, jogging under hanging flaps of canvas and errant branches that Sera swats aside. A rain-soaked path, merry with laughter before Sera dives into a bush in the middle of a long-abandoned garden, heedless of her scratched sleeves as she holds it open for Harding.

“I don’t go for the elf-y green shite, all birds and rubbish, but this-- this is nice.” Sera holds her breath, cheeks pink and dirt on her nose. “You like it?”

Harding looks about the green surrounding them, a herbaceous wall of leaves, branches spaced enough to let an elf and a dwarf sprawl out beneath a blanket spread to catch the worst of the rain, another below their shins. Hot tea in a wicker carrying case, strong enough to lift Harding off her feet. Cranberry-studded scones and even sugar in a little white pot. Sitting-room cozy, surrounded by this lemongrass-and-rosemary thicket and the rain still pouring overhead.

“I mean, I know you like picnics and walks and all that sop and I figured I could wait for the perfect day-- sun shining out its arse, little twitter-bits and clouds scudding-- or I could, maybe, y’know. _Make_ it perfect.” Pick pick pick, picking at her sleeves, her hair, fingers twitching as the words spill out. “I mean, _anyone_ could take you out on a nice day.”

“You are the only one who has _ever_ given me a picnic in the rain. Believe me, I like it.” Harding leans forward, shifting her weight onto one palm so she won’t jostle the teapot. A wet-fresh kiss, nose bumping Sera’s, and Sera giggles bright as marigolds.


End file.
